# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! 



I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. | 



Uol C^ 



HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 



BY 



^ 



MARIA J. BISHOP, 



AUTHOR OF "thoughts IN A SICK CHAMBER," " WORDS TO THE 
MOURNER," "letters TO A GOD-SON," "WOODLAND WALK." 




-0^r co^^ 



^ COPYRIGHT ^-0 
^/'VQTO^ 



BOSTON : 
PUBLISHED BY B. B. RUSSELL, 

55 CORNHILL. 
1872. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 

By B. B. RUSSELL, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



BOSTON : PRINTED BY RAND, AVERY, & CO. 



TO E. T. B. 

Dear Emma, 

to you, through whose seiif-sacrificing affection many 

of these lines were written, 

Permit me to ©ebote tfjts trifling lEffort, 

A3 A 
SLIGHT EXPRESSION OF THE GRATITUDE WITH WHICH I AM 

YOUR LOVING SISTER, 
M. J. B. 



COl^TENTS. 



PAGE 

Castles in the Air 7 

Evening on the Sea •* • .9 

The Ascension 11 

The Templar's Service 14 

The Storm . . . ^ 15 

Hope 18 

Wait -20 

Martyr Cr:6tienne 22 

Night 24 

Labor a Privilege 26 

In Memory of Alice Carey 29 

The Mutiny 30 

"Gates Ajar" 35 

Home Influence 37 

"Excelsior" 41 

The Art of Happiness 43 



6 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Snowflake 45 

My School at Sunset . . 47 

The Pride of Wealth 48 

True Charity 51 

Pharaoh's DAtroHTER 53 

Trial . . . . , 57 

The Raindrop 58 

The Tournament 60 

Encouragement 63 



HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 



CASTLES IN THE AIR. 

I DREAMED a happy day had come, 

When all on earth was fair : 
Bright rose, in many a sparkling dome. 

My castles in the air. 
There heart, not form ; there worth, not wealth ; 

There deeds, not words, do reign : 
Others are loved instead of self. 

And Courage smiles at pain. 
Spare, stern Truth, my lofty towers, 

Brilliant, light and fair : 
Let me rear, a few brief hours, 

Castles in the air. 

There are Youth and Beauty, meekly 

Lighting fair a home ; 
There is Patience calmly, sweetly 

Bearing Sorrow's doom ; 



HOUKS WITH THE LONELV. 

Envy comes not near my portals ; 

Pride lays down its palm : 
Each the lot of weary mortals 

Strives to cheer and calm. 

Honor tramples on ambition ; 

Patriots live again, 
Bound on high and holy mission, 

Good, not gold, their aim. 
Heroes, their bright helmets rearing, 

Ne'er the pass will yield ; 
Old Thermopylae revering, 

Dying under shield. 

Love her plighted vow is breathing 

In my halls of air ; 
And through life, like ivy wreathing, 

Makes Hope's ruins fair. 
Smiling, though all else forsake him. 

Never can he roam : 
Earth may frown, but Love will make him 

Still a happy home. 

No: thou frownest, and they tremble, — 

Bastion, keep, and tower: 
Ah ! too little they resemble 

Life for one brief hour. 



EVENING ON THE SEA. 9 

Still I find a dreamy pleasure 

On the golden air, 
Building, from bright Fancy's treasure, 

Castles in the air. 
Truth, mid all Life's storm-clouds driven. 

Still thy power I dare : 
Virtue builds with rays of heaven 

No castles in the air. 



EVENING ON THE SEA. 

How beautiful the day's decline 
On meadow, moor and lee ! 

But softer is the silver shine 

Of evening on the sea. ^ 

I love to watch the sunbeams fade 

Upon the mountain's brow. 
As sombre steals the deepening shade 

Beneath the forest bough, — 
As sunset's mellow murmurs swell. 

Sweet comfort brings to me ; 
But sweeter is the holy spell 

Of evenino; on the sea. 



10 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

While Pleasure lights her brilliant hall, 

And calls the young and fair, 
Where bounding footsteps festive fall, 

I cannot linger there : 
I'd rather seek a resting-place, 

And sweet tranquillity. 
Where beams fall from my Father's face 

At evening, on the sea. 

The world's rude mart of jostling care 

The spirit often jars. 
And nothing but Faith's fervent prayer 

Can break its prison bars. 
How sweet to steal from present pain, 

To some far memory, 
That gleams like sunset o'er the main, 

Or evenino; o'er the sea. 

Oft Morning flings her crimson fold, 

A gleam that cannot last ; 
And all its tints of deepening gold 

At noon are overcast. 
Thus life has been a stormy day, 

A lowering cloud to me ; 
But will a sunset glory play 

At evening o'er its sea ? 



THE ASCENSION". 11 



THE ASCENSION. 

For forty days the Church had met its glorious 

risen Head ; 
For forty days they gazed upon the '' First-born 

from the dead ; " 
The upper chamber's sacred walls that gathered 

them to prayer, 
Would seem to part, and oft reveal the form of 

Jesus there. 
Thomas had touched the pierced hand, and, 

bowing to the sod. 
Adored, firm in unwavering faith, his Saviour 

and his God ; 
And Peter's threefold fall had been with thrice- 

told love forgiven, 
^ While in commission high he bore the golden 

key of heaven. 
The fisher cast his nets away ; the shepherd left 

his sheep. 
On earth's bleak hills, from every foe Messiah's 

flock to keep. 
Humbled, they met the risen One, who in Geth- 

semane 



12 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Was left alone, of every friend, to battle 

misery. 
And gentle is the loving look that rests on every 

brow : 
Not sharp reproaches from his lips, but bene- 
dictions flow. 
He met them in their weary way, he broke 

with them the bread, 
And from blood-stained Jerusalem their minds 

to heaven he led. 
He called them friends and brethren, baptizing 

them in power 
That tramples kingly diadems, in triumph, to 

this hour. 
Beneath the palm of Olivet, that loving, honored 

band. 
In adoration, kneel beneath a Saviour's out- 
stretched hand. 
The fervent John, the steadfast James, all, all 

save one are there ; 
Salome and grateful Mary, with the perfume in 

her hair. 
The palm-plumes scarcely quiver ; the very air 

is still ; 
Even Cedron's plash seems lower, as waiting on 

his will. 



THE ASCENSIOX. 13 

The heaven's blue depths, in wonder, their 

arches seem to bend, 
While from the heavenly porches the angel 

guards descend. 
His work on earth is ended ; his ministry is 

o'er : 
" Salvation " now shall echo to earth's remotest 

shore. 
Precept and promise Jesus spoke, as near the 

seraphs drew, 
Till, breathing benedictions, he vanished from 

their view. 
And now, when hearts are bendinor 'neath sor- 

row, sin, or pain, 
Faith comes, an angel monitor, to bid them rise 

ao;ain. 
In faith, in love, in holy hope, the Church shall 

still ascend 
To" meet her risen Saviour, till time itself shall 

end. 
How deep soe'er the valley, where Baca's 

streams may flow, 
With splendor from that angel cloud the hea- 
venly hills still glow. 



14 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 



THE TEMPLAR'S SERVICE. 

Can thy shoulders bear the cross ? 
Wilt thou welcome pain and loss ? 
Never turn thee from the foe ? 
All of earthly joy forego ? 

Can thy sandal lowly tread, 
Following the Master's lead ? 
Terrible in battle-field, 
Still a son's obedience yield ? 

When the well-fought day is o'er, 
And the ruddy wine doth pour, 
Wilt thou, at the trumpet's call, 
Instant leave that banquet-hall ? 

Wilt thou keep thy armor bright. 
Burnished in the headlong fight ? 
And where'er the crescents wave. 
Plant the Cross, or find a grave ? 

Wilt thou watch with loving eyes 
Where the outcast beggar lies ; 
And, when weak ones claim thy might. 
Help the orphan to the right ? 



THE STOKM. 15 

Scorning hoarded gold to gain, 
Save thy hilt and bridle rein, 
Turning from the ingots' glow, 
Wilt thou let thy captive go ? 

Where the Temple banner flies 
Proudly, there its soldier dies. 
But wilt thou ne'er that banner yield, — 
For it, dying under shield ? " 

Canst thou, then, upon thy brow, 
Take the last unnoticed blow ? 
Templar ! while thy war-cry rings, 
Thou art brother now of kings. 



THE STORM. 

On the still waters lies the liquid light. 
Reflected from the mirror of the sea. 

In flashes so bewilderingly bright. 

That the blue haze seems moving dreamily, 

And, like the phantom of their false mirage, 

Seems writing fables on its mystic page. 



16 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

For many clays, beneatli the tropic sky, 

The ship has hung upon the ghttering deep ; 

And the white sails, that fall so lazily, 

Seem sea-birds' pinions, folded now in sleep ; 

While not a creaking rope nor pennon thread 

Quivers, to break the awful stillness dread. 



The flying-fish in silver squadrons sweep, 

Like flashing fire-flies, through the startled 
night ; 

Or measured bounding of the dolphin's leap, 
Mirrors the moonbeam in an arch of light ; 

Or, til rough the stagnant wave, the dorsal-fin 

Of their pursuer flashes out and in. 



Restless, the seamen lift their burning brows, 
And, murmuring, mutter for the lagging 
breeze ; 
For fever's thirst, denied, more maddened 
grows : 
Each day, each hour, do untold miseries 
Assault their hearts, and mingle in their cup ; 
For death will come, unless the breeze spring 
up. 



THE STORM. 17 

But, see ! the distance marks a line of light, — 
A black cloud hurries to the zenith now : 

And, curbing in its tightened rein of white, 
The maddened tempest bursts upon their 
brow ; 

The tall masts blanch against the ghastly sky, 

And, with their reefed-up canvas, bend and 

%. 

Rushing and hissing 'round the shivering sides. 
The ocean breaks in myriad pearls of foam ; 
Through the tumultuous waves the good ship 
glides, 
As if she knew their warring walls her home ; 
Rising and sinking, with a graceful shock, 
Her streaming pennons seem their rage to 
mock. 

The crooked lightning leaps along the shroud. 
Ploughs through the foam, — illumines the 
abyss, — 

While, crash on crash, the awful thunder loud 
Mingles its bellow with the wild waves' hiss ; 

And on, right on towards the coral-reef 

She bears, while minute-guns call for relief. 

2* 



18 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Right up to heaven climbs the ambitious wave, 
And up its deep-scarred forehead flies the 
sliip ; 
Hangs for a moment o'er the yawning grave, 
Then, headlong, plunges down the blackened 
steep ; 
Her straining planks her agony has told, 
And five feet water settles in the hold. 

How dark the heavens veil the watery war I 
'Tis twilight, save that crinkling lightning's 
beam ; 
Another plunge — she strikes with grinding 
jar — 
Her timbers tremble — open every seam — 
Her masts lean forward with a sudden shock, — 
And, crashing down, the wreck is strewn upon 
the rock. 



HOPE. 

Shall I behold thy face in joy. 
My glorious, risen Lord ? 

Shall I arrive where thou art now, 
Leaning upon thy word ? 



HOPE. 19 

What though through floods of deep distress, 

And miry waves, I go ? 
I see thy sandals' faint impress, 

Like angel 2;uides below. 

When days are dark, and friends are few, 

I raise my weary eye. 
And see, like flashing drops of dew, 

The palace domes on high : 

See the white vesture of my Lord 

Gleam in that holy home. 
And hear his silver, whispered word, — 

" Blessed of my Father, come ! " 

And may I come, though furnace fires 

Block up the way to thee ! 
Through Satan's ranks, through angel choirs, 

I press, my Lord to see. 

Close to his cross who died for us. 

The suffering head is laid ; 
Close to the cross, — how glorious 

Thy love that cross hath made ! 



20 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 



WAIT. 

One of the hardest lessons, as well as the 
most trying experiences, is to wait, — to wait 
for ends which have been pursued by worthy 
and competent means, wjien the result has been 
merited by strenuous exertion, and is looked 
forward to as a just reward. 

The schemes of youth, bright with the splen- 
dor of a glowing imagination, are planned with 
the most sanguine anticipations of success ; and 
its castles of air are reared too rapidly for 
the heart to ponder the word — wait. Yet 
years of patient waiting must often be borne ere 
the dear wish is granted, the coveted good 
won. 

Nor is it alone over the visions of youth that 
the superscription is written, — Wait; but too 
often does it interpose between the labor of life 
and the triumph of life. Little by little is 
the good seed sown, the victory won, on the 
moral battle-field ; but the harvest is truly 



WAIT. 21 

by and bv, — the triumph is reserved for the 
morrow. 

In the pleasures of Hfe, also, the heart bounds 
forward to the desired good. Friendships, 
formed perhaps in youth, are perfected through 
years of trial ; and for the highest good which 
earth confers, — the tried and faithful friend, we 
long must wait. 

The pleasures arising from a cultivated mind, 
an enlightened imagination, is a slow-perfected 
thing ; the honors conferred by learning are the 
reward of years of patient effort. Genius, in all 
its bright galaxy of varying talents, may be 
bestowed by its great Author; yet the light 
with which it floods the world may be kindled, 
often is, in the loneliness of poverty, in the 
obscurity of patient, unregarded effort ; and 
the wreath which has waved greenest on the 
brows of the world's worthies has been watered 
by tears, through years of waiting. 

And in the providences of life, which loom 
dark as a thunder-cloud across our path, darken- 
ing our future with their coming horror, the 
same lesson is reiterated, the same comfort is 
whispered. The storm may indeed come, and 
our comforts may be strewn by the rude blast 



22 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

of misfortune ; but from their shattered frag- 
ments will divine benevolence rear a more 
bsautiful fabric, and, in the midst of trouble, 
the sufferer often seems to hear a low voice, say- 
ing to him alone, — Wait ! 

And when life has swept wave on wave of 
prosperity around us, crowded blessings in our 
path, and its evening sky is tinted with the 
golden light of a peaceful sunset, there still 
remains a fairer, brigliter something for the 
heart. Those dyes may fade, one by one, and 
the starlight of death may overspread the silent 
valley ; but a morning yet waits for the un- 
happy, — shall yet surprise earth's most favored 
one by its full fruition, well worthy of the 
inscription it wrote upon earth's best blessings, — 
Wait ! 



MARTYR CRETIENNE. 

Calmly by the stake she stood, 
While, around, the fiery flood 

Louder roared, or nearer hissed, 
And the martyr's sandal kissed. 



23 



MARTYR CRETIENNE. 

High above her brow of snow 
Mark the hquid columns glow ; 

O'er her still, unshrinking form, 
Fiercer rolls the burning storm. 

Bound by faith, the melting chain 
Drops its heated links amain ; 

Vivia Nero's power can dare, 
Armed in panoply of prayer. 

Loud she calls, amid the flame. 
On her Lord and Master's name ; 

Back the haughty Romans draw, 
Conquered by a holy awe. 

Robed in light, and veiled in fire. 
Drawing near the angel choir. 

Sweeter breathes the martyr's hymn, 
As the earthly scene grows dim. 

All unconscious of her pain, 
Sweetly rings the soft amen ; 

Meekly, on her burning bed, 

Vivia rests her palm-crowned head. 



24 HOUKS WITH THE LONELY. 



NIGHT. 

With pearl-drops laden, the soft light shading, 
The cloudlet flits through the summer night, 

Its bright dews shedding, noiselessly treading 
O'er a sleeping world, up its path of light. 

Like veiled votress, concealed from notice, 
The moon looks through the hazy screen ; 

While from heavenly porches the stars swing 
torches, 
And hang their silver lamps between. 

How calm those arches, where angel watches 
Their starry wings round the planets beat ! 

Through pearl-paved highways, heaven's glit- 
tering by-ways. 
Move the unseen steps of their flashing feet. 

Some spirit warden to earth's fair garden 
May, for a moment, bend his brow. 

Where white wreaths sparkle, and torrents 
darkle. 
Round summits crowned with eternal snow. 



NIGHT. 25 

Calm now the track of the tempest rack, 
Chained in the caverns of the skies; 

And the flashing clear of the fiery spear 
Of the diamond dew on the landscape lies. 

Save leaflet's quiver, or murmuring river, 
No sound breaks the hush of the midnio;ht 
hour ; 
Or the low, sweet whistle where fern and 
thistle 
Deepen the shade of the forest bower. 

The brier-rose glistens, and, bending, listens 
To the noiseless dance of the fire-fly ; 

And dingles whiten, and forests brighten, 
In silver and sable livery. 

'Tis Nature's vesper : a soft-toned whisper 
Breathes from the tree-tops, swells from the 
sod. 

If such man's dwelling, oh, how excelling 
The home of the just, — the pavilion of God ! 

3 



26 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 



LABOR A PRIVILEGE. 

Had man remained the liappy possessor of a 
thornless paradise, liis few and temperate wants 
would, doubtless, have been supplied by the 
spontaneous yield of productive earth ; but 
when, in the moral jar of nature, dispositions 
averse to happiness became a part of his being, 
and to these were added the cares and sorrows 
of our mortal state; it was a kind and benevolent 
appointment that labor henceforth should be- 
come his heritage, that earth should be his only 
as he subdued it, and that in the sweat of 
his bi'ow should he find a sweet relief from the 
sorrow of heart. 

Thorns and briers, it is true, spring in his 
path ; but patient industry weaves them into 
a crown of rejoicings, and they become, by 
divine allotment, ministering angels. His body, 
liable to disease and death, is thereby strength- 
ened and beautified ; and his mind, which 
would otherwise prey upon itself, is educated 
into a vigorous and giant thing, a blessing to 



LABOR A PRIYILEGE. 27 

himself and to all within his reach. It is true, 
toil continued day after day, year after year, 
becomes a drudgery ; but that degree of earnest 
activity which is the appointed vehicle of suc- 
cess to every good man is an added blessing to 
his condition. 

Industry is the great hand of the world. It 
takes the cold lump of the material universe, 
making it instinct with a life of beauty and 
power. It reaches to the depths of the ocean, 
and diadems its pride with its trophies. It 
drives asunder the mountain bars to form a 
course for its triumphal chariot. It harnesses 
the winds as its steeds, and arms itself with the 
lightnings of heaven ; and from the creations of 
its inventive genius arise forms which rival the 
angelic. 

As if to counterbalance the care and toil 
attendant upon labor, a moulding power is 
imparted to it, which assimilates to its great 
ideal the soul which diligently pursues any 
worthy object. There is a law of compensation 
written upon work, which, of itself, repays and 
ennobles the mind. It is the initial of true 
greatness, the passport to all success. What 
differs more than the mind of the astute student 



28 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

and the low level of thought of the Otaheitan, 
who cannot number five? And whence this 
difference? Both are men, endowed with the 
powers of a reasoning mind ; but industry has 
opened before one a world of light, and sloth 
has immured the other in a cavern of darkness. 
As if to put a nobility upon labor, Providence 
has ordained that the master-minds of earth 
shall work the hardest. 

Genius is reckoned, in the workl's account, as 
the alembic which shall turn all to gold, render- 
ing effort needless. Now, it so happens, that 
the greatest geniuses have had to dig through 
years of obscure suffering ; often repaid for the 
productions which noiv grace the walls of palaces 
by the poor crust which enables them to toil 
on to-morrow. Whatever the web and warp 
of the mind may be, whether God has given one 
talent or other, industry still enters, as the con- 
nectino- belt, between merit and success. 

Effort is the golden dust that genius chips off 
from the rough ore, making it available to itself 
and others. The man who dares to work 
is greater than he who dares to fight: for the 
leader is helpless without his troops, but the 
worker is a host in himself; he masters circum- 



IN MEMORY OF ALICE CAREY. 29 

stances and triumphs over difficulties. Heaven 
has promised to bless one thing only, in the 
material as in the spiritual world ; and that 
is effort. With energy, the earth obeys man as 
a wilHng captive ; without it, it lords over him 
as an oppressive tyrant ; and whatever added 
circumstances of happiness may be his, peace 
can never enter, save unto a head and heart 
made weary of work. 



m MEMORY OF ALICE CAREY. 

Sweet singer, rest. Life's brittle warp 

Hath parted, and thy silver harp, 
With broken string upon thy bier, 

Claims from the w^orld a pitying tear. 
Once Deborah sang beneath her palm. 

And Judith's timbrel gave alarm. 
And Miriam, o'er the sea afar, 

Welcomed the victor from the w^ar ; 
Thence to a train with tuneful lyre, 

Just lower than the angels' choir. 
The burning thought and prophet veil 

O'er heaven-touched foreheads slowly fell. 

3* 



30 HOFRS WITH THE LONELY. 

Hemans and Landon, in that train, 

Pour holy thouo;lit in liquid strain ; 
And sorrow on green Erin fell, 

That mourned its lovely L. E. L. 
Then Browning swept her solemn lyre ; 

From Osgood's lips fell words of fire ; 
Till our own gentle Sigourney 

Transferred the poet-palm to thee. 
Sweet lyrist, rest. No more below. 

Thy harp shall wake its notes of woe ; 
But, mincrlino; with the ano-els' strain. 

Shall thrill to rapture's deep '' Amen ! " 



THE MUTINY. 

In a small, richly-ornamented room, whose 
stained windows flung a flood of mellow light 
upon the floor, the youthful queen sat in the 
pride of her first hour of dominion, but in 
the anxiety of her challenged rights. The 
proud head drooped listlessly at times upon 
her hand, and the clear gray eyes had a trou- 
bled expression in their depth. The robe of 
light-blue velvet which fell in graceful folds 
around her regal form, and the circlet of pearl 



THE MUTINY. 31 

that bound back the shining mass of her golden 
hair, well became the proud daughter of Henry ; 
while the lovely expression of her fine, though 
not regular features, made the child of the lovely 
Boleyn a sharer in her beauty. At her feet lay 
a beautiful dog, that, as if sharing its mistress's 
anxiety, looked with wistful eyes into her face, 
with almost human intelligence. 

" Yes, thou art faithful, Fido," she said, " and 
shamest by thy attachment those who have better 
cause for gratitude. O treacherous Philip ! " 
she exclaimed, rising, and pacing the room : 
" little did I think when thy guile did praise 
my hand on the harp as the lightest, my step in 
the galliad as the truest, that thou — thou whom 
I so often shielded from Mary's suspicious temper 
— that thou wouldst endeavor to reft from me 
my crown ! But the false Spaniard shall rue 
it ! " and the small foot stamped with impa- 
tience. '' What, ho, Wentworth ! " as a page 
entered at her call, " Who waits without ? " 

" My Lord Chancellor craves a hasty admit- 
tance to your Grace's presence." 

*' Ah, Walsingham!" she said, as the states- 
man entered, " thou comest with tidings. Do 
the popish galleys muster on the coast ? Have 
the troops embarked ? " 



32 ' HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

"Alas, mada:H !" replied Walsingliam, "so 
far from it, the danger deepens daily. The 
troops, for lack of gold, have broken out into 
open mutiny, while the broad wings of the 
Armada are swooping like falcon to the quarry. 
I come to advise your Grace should instantly 
take horse for the North. Hunsdown and I 
will hold the city in check till you are safe." 

" How, my Lord ! " cried the queen passion- 
ately : " dost thou counsel ignoble flight to my 
father's daughter ? That were a poltroon's 
lesson. Marry, we will meet Philip single- 
handed, with such aid as my cousin of Scotland 
may afford, ere England's liberties shall become 
the prey of yonder cowled priests." 

Quick and short was the young queen's order, 
which we will leave to be executed while the 
reader accompanies us to the coast. 

The troops were drawn up in a hollow square, 
and the order was momentarily expected to em- 
bark. Dark and stern were the looks of the 
men, and scowling brows glanced along the 
short carbine, as, with low mutterings, they 
awaited the arrival of the general. 

" For me, Hereward,'' growled one of the 
malecontents, " I won't leave the shores of merry 



THE MUTINY. * 33 

England on this wild chase. The days were 
well enough, I trow, in Mary's time. At all 
events, there was plenty of Spanish gold then ; 
and we poor soldiers had rations and pay in the 
old time. And as for this new doctrine, let 
them fight for it as likes it ; for my part, I believe 
in priests and mass-book." 

" Ay, comrade : the gentles will look to 
their own interest, and leave us poor wretches 
to bide the brunt. They'll have hard work to- 
day to settle it, I am thinking." 

" Hist ! " whispered the other. '^ They are 
coming." 

A cloud of dust from the distant town of 
Portsmouth rolled each moment nearer; and 
in a few moments the Earls of Essex and Huns- 
down swept, with their splendid staff, into the 
square. 

Addressing the soldiers with the frank bear- 
ing of a true Englishman, the young earl painted 
the nobleness of the cause, and the laurels to be 
won, in a few graphic words. His fine face 
flushed, as he noticed the sullen silence of the 
troops ; and when, at length, the order to ad- 
vance was given, not a soldier stirred. 

*' Ha ! we have mutiny here, my Lord," said 



34 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Essex, in a low tone, wheeling the black steed 
he rode with inimitable grace, around the square, 
and raising his visor, while his dark eye flashed 
fire. 

" Advance ! " he cried, " or, on my word as a 
Christian knio-ht, there will be hot work here." 

"" Patience, my Lord ! " said the elder noble. 
" We cannot contend with these regiments." 
, The order of their chief was received with 
the sharp click of carbines, as they were brought 
to bear on the group of officers. One moment 
the suspense continued ; the next, the rapid 
beating of horses' hoofs arrested the attention of 
the mutineers, as Elizabeth, attended by the 
officers of her household, rode into the centre. 

Her tall, slight form was arrayed in green 
and gold, while from under the small silver- 
plated helmet, her unbound hair streamed on 
her shoulders. At her saddle-bow she carried 
pistols ; and, as she managed the snow-white 
charger with perfect ease, a shout of admiration 
and enthusiasm burst from the ranks. 

" How, my people ! " she exclaimed, and the 
clear, sweet tones riveted attention. ^' You 
want a leader. You burn to avenge the insults 
of your land. Behold yonder the chains they 



"gates ajar." 35 

forge for your captivity : I will be your leader, 
— follow your queen ! " 

She rode along the ranks, as a shout, like dis- 
tant thunder, greeted her, while banner after 
banner ranged themselves in her train. 

Waving her kerchief, she sat, as galley after 
galley received its burden, and when at last, 
bowing till his plume mingled with his horse's 
mane, the young earl passed, she said, — 

" Lord Essex, we have begun the battle. 
We yield to thee to win the victory." 



"GATES AJAR." 

Heaven ! — oh where in the fields of space 
Rise the shining homes of its favored race ? 
Where the jasper walls, and the sea of light ? 
The palms, and the crowns, and the robes of 

white ? 
Where every sunny vale shall glow 
With radiance flashed from a seraph's brow, 
And the good and great from farthest time. 
In a holy land and a blessed clime. 
Shall meet, and their friendship ever grow. 
Holy companions forever now. 



36 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

There Judith awakes a lofty strain, 

Nor David's notes shall e'er complain ; 

And Miriam's anthem of victory 

Rings down the aisles of eternity. 

One there is, and a paler star 

Gleams in the crown that she wears, afar, 

And the trace of tears on her lashes lay 

From the lifted eyes just wiped away. 

'Twas a mourner once, — a Rachel : here, 

Full oft, she bowed on her children's bier ; 

But now they have come to their border fair. 

Her sorrows are o'er, for they all are there. * 

Earth is fair, and her dells are green ; 

And conquering Art in her walks is seen ; 

Her palace domes are proud and high, 

And her arches rise 'gainst the amber sky ; 

But her promises are the castles fair. 

Reared by the fancy and built of air : 

A passing shadow, a thistle down. 

Shall soon prove the weight of her mightiest 

crown. 
But a lasting home calls the waiting heart, — 
A sceptre and throne that can ne'er depart. 
Oh ! tell me, then : does the golden gate. 
With door ajar, for my coming wait ? 



HOME INFLUENCE. 37 



HOME INFLUENCE. 

Who shall estimate the virtue, what tongue 
shall spread the potent power, of home influ- 
ence ? It is the chisel which graves deep and 
lasting inscriptions on the character. It gives 
shape to the plastic clay of human feeling, 
moulding it for eternity. 

Why is it the savage steps forth a rude and 
uncultivated being, unpolished by all which re- 
fines the mind, unenlightened by all which 
exalts and embelhshes the soul ? It is because 
his childhood and youth were unblessed by any 
influence, save that of wild, stern nature ; and 
he is but the speaking impression, the living ex- 
ample, of his forest home. 

The spirit of home^ — its holy teachings, its 
pure, sweet atmosphere, its society and sympa- 
thy — follows us, guides us, and gives law to our 
thoughts, through the whole course of our lives. 
" My mother did it," gives warrant to the man. 
" ^j father said it," exclaims the child in after 
years ; and we feel that the -sentiment is almost 
holy, for it is baptized in a father's approval. 

4 



38 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

God has given a mighty trust to those who 
cluster around the fireside of home. To each 
one around that hearthstone are ten talents of 
influence committed ; and, in the hand of God, 
they become a seal and stamp, impressing the 
image of an angel or a rebel upon each other. 

Christian mother, that little fair-haired, blue- 
eyed being at your side, looking up so artlessly 
into your face, is receiving from you the lessons 
in which he will hereafter read his race. You 
are sweeping your fingers across the delicate 
harp of the soul, waking what tunes you please ; 
but the music will ring on when your ear is 
deaf to it, and will mingle with the harmony of 
heaven, or create a discord in the universe. 
You are wielding a fearful moral power; you are 
moulding a character which may speak your 
praise in eternity ; you are teaching a little 
lisping tongue, which may arise in the resur- 
rection and call you blessed ; and you are 
doing this, not so much by formal precepts and 
direct appeal, as by the influence, the atmos- 
phere, the tone, which you, more than any 
other, are giving to home! By this you are 
touching the pendulum of an immortal spirit, 
and it shall vibrate through life to the teachings 
of home. 



HOME INFLUENCE. 39 

Sweet sister, to whom God has given many a 
gift, spiritual, intellectual, and personal ; whose 
gentle words are enforced by all the vivacity 
and earnestness of youth, and whose loving 
deeds bear now the fresh impress of woman's 
gentleness and zeal, you are reigning now as 
queen over the social affections, and your po- 
tent sceptre sways, in a good degree, the wide 
empire of home bliss ! Yours are filial and fra- 
ternal duty ; the piety which, like the lowly lily, 
blossoms in the sheltered vale of life ; the hal- 
lowed influence which, like a bright angel, 
glides around the social scene ; the deference 
which makes a father deem he has a treasure 
in his child ; the smile which welcomes a 
brother home again, and the little song, the 
obliging manner, and the soft hand laid in his, 
are some of the spells that bind the hearts of 
kindred to home, with a witchery that never is 
broken. 

A pious home, — its inmate may wander far, 
like a lost sheep, but still may we hope he w^ill 
return again to the guardian fold. 

The home whose walls have been made a 
temple, whose very furniture seems like altar- 
stones, and whose hearth has been rendered a 



40 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

choir where praises have often echoed, is, of it- 
self, a most formidable bulwark aojainst evil. 

Plenty will fill our granaries, and prosperity 
our palaces, while home influence is high and 
pure ; while virtue hangs her fair clusters around 
the cottage porch, and holiness binds in its cir- 
cle the household band, the State will flourish, 
its halls will be fllled with wisdom, and its 
storehouses with profusion. 

Let home shed a halo of goodness on the 
path of the child ; let its teachings be high, let 
its associations be refined. We speak not here 
of the refinements of fashion, the embellish- 
ments of wealth, but of that true elegance 
which belongs to every pure heart, and where- 
in the welfare of the masses is secured. 

There is not a virtue or a grace, but diverges 
from, or converges to, this centre of all that is 
excellent and good. 

The man lives there before he lives in the, 
world; and faith and holy charity have their 
outsioincrs from the domestic scene. We can 
scarcely imagine a fairer type of heaven, than 
that spot where God has clustered all which 
makes our social wisdom bright and happy, and 
to which he has given such a regenerating 



" EXCELSIOR." 41 

power. And when, at length, the lustre which 
emanates from a holy home fades upon the sight, 
and the star of pure influence which, resting 
above the hearthstone, and floating over our 
whole life, hangs upon the farthest verge of 
mortality, then shall those who have been 
guided by its light exchange an earthly home 
for a home in heaven, and fireside devotion will 
be easily exchanged for the praises of Him " of 
whom the whole family in heaven and earth 
are named." 



'' EXCELSIOR." 

Onward and upward, that is thy path. 
Where the fierce mountain stream thunders its 

wrath. 
Dark clouds may threaten it, — there lies thy 

way ; 
Tempests have beaten it, — labor and pray. 

Leave to the timid the velvety plain : 
Thine be the nobler part, — sorrow and pain. 

4* 



42 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Wliat though the eao-le's shriek echoes aloud ? 
Gaze where the snowy peak sleeps in the cloud. 

What though some toilsome path baffle thee 

lonor ? 
Lean on thy pilgrim staff, cheer thee with song ; 
Though the far distance all desolate lies, 
In the wild desert oases arise. 

Lonor must the hero-heart struo-ale in fire, 
Ere tuned to bear a part, Fame, in thy choir ! 
Torn by the wilderness, footsore, we climb 
Where earth's best nobleness vanquisheth time. 

Welcome the struggle, the conflict, the pain ! 
Deeper the trouble the higher the gain. 
Ours be no banquet through days of delight. 
But the meed of the victor returned from the 
fight. 

Upward and onward, then, weary heart, hie I 
Noble thought, dauntless mind, calm, fearless 

eye. 
Fight thy way fearlessly, cling to the rock ; 
Win thy rest gloriously, or die in the shock. 



THE ART OF HAPPINESS. 43 



THE ART OF HAPPINESS. 

Not all the wealth of the Indies, not all the 
power Alexander possessed, can procure for the 
heart that degree of lasting peace, that fulness 
of comfort, that all, more or less, are in search 
of. It may be mine to possess, my neighbor's 
to enjoy. How often, when the wide acres of 
affluence stretch before the eye, does the 
thought intrude : " Is the proud owner happier 
than others ? " or does the beauty of the out- 
ward but contrast the unquiet restlessness of a 
sad heart ? 

There is much, in a world spread in loveli- 
ness, to soothe and comfort the heart ; yet man 
is not so dependent upon the outward as to be 
made happy by it, if there is not first sunshine 
in his heart. The domain of intellect has a 
world of satisfaction within its borders, and in 
the solace of well-chosen friendship the heart 
can almost forget unhappiness, yet not quite 
forget it. There must be peace — that peace 
which is the blessing of heaven at home — in 
the soul, and then the face of Nature, the gift 
of life, all contribute to the main sum of bliss. 



44 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

That we are made to be happy, — happy in 
spite of the manifold trials of life, — is evident. 
" Man was " not made " to mourn ; " and he who 
does so is a rebel in a universe of love. We are 
not, perhaps, conscious how much of our happi- 
ness we derive from ourselves. A conscience 
that speaks peace, an intellect cleared of the 
mists of error, — above all, a mind contented 
with that portion of earthly good assigned us, 

— these constitute the real happiness of all. 
A spirit that looks on life with loving gener- 
osity towards others, gains by their prosperity, 
brightens in their success, and does more to 
make the possessor happy than all of wealth 
or honor without it. Added to these heart 
qualities the peace of a heart reconciled to its 
Maker, and there are a thousand innocent joys 
within the reach of all. 

Wealth is not necessary to enjoy the beauty 
of a landscape, not now necessary to procure 
the pleasure derived from books. A small gar- 
den — even the cherished plant in the window 

— is a source of pleasure ; and, where the 
mind is waiting to be pleased, the very sounds 
of life, rural or otherwise, are each musical 
with joy. Knowledge opens her storehouse 



THE SNOWFLAKE. 45 

for the winter evening ; while piety silvers all 
of earth with divine goodness, striking a vista 
through its deepest sorrow, to that world where 
the obedient are filled with the fulness of joy. 



THE SNOWFLAKE. 

Brilliantly flashing, Vainst the window dash- 



ingj 



The snowflake trembles on its wing of white ; 
Silently beaming, like a banner streaming, 
An ano-el banner from the hills of licrht. 
Noiselessly treading where the fields are spread- 

A silver net-work weaves o'er rock and tree ; 
Its fingers fairy in the forest tarry. 
Decking its arches with soft drapery. 

In famed Cacsera is no such quarry 
As thine, O Winter! with thy art refined; 
Nor in Genius' vision has such beauty risen 
As maps its marvels to the thoughtful mind. 
In beauty glances, in sunlight dances, 



46 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Each gemmed and diademed imperial spray ; 
Winter's frost-work glitters, and in shining 

letters 
" Memento morV^ writes upon the day. 

I read thy mission like a holy vision, 
Thou veiled prophet, speaking to the heart ; 
For time is stealing, and its mists concealing 
Life's distant memories, whispering. Depart ! 
And will, though fading, if its moments, laden 
With well done duty, like thy jewels rise. 
Not Death's cold finger, where its snow-flakes 

linger, 
Can bar us from our happy home, the skies. 

Beautiful Nature, in thy every feature 
Some new conception of my God I view : 
The sunset's glory, or the storm's wild fury, 
All to his attributes and grandeur true. 
In summer's dingles, or where winter mingles 
The Alpine avalanche and brooklet stones. 
In soft airs speaking, or in whirlwinds shrieking, 
I hear the music of a Father's tones. 



MY SCHOOL AT SUNSET. 47 



MY SCHOOL AT SUNSET. 

Fifty young heads in an innocent row, 
Fifty soft cheeks tliat with rosebuds may glow ; 
Black eyes and blue eyes, and eyes of delight ; 
Dark eyes and soft eyes, but every eye bright. 
Five little zephyrs ? You question me, nay : 
Fifty young zephyrs, just ceasing to play. 

Dimpled arms, piled with laborious care, 
Propping the brow and the shoulders so fair ; 
Curly heads, dipped in the evening's gold ; 
Tiny hands, clasped in innocent fold ; 
Pouting lips, hiding the last smile away : 
Fifty young zephyrs, just ceasing to play. 

Feet that have bounded like billows all day. 
Crossed over each, like twin lilies, they lay ; 
Hands that have covertly wove the blue-bell, 
Over white bosoms have carelessly fell ; 
Cheek meeting cheek, the sweet innocents lay. 
Fifty young zephyrs just ceasing to play. 



48 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

When the last sunbeam, with arrow of gold, 
Shot through the casement, how rij)pling rolled 
The silvery laughter! now silent and still 
All the wild uproar of jubilee — till 
The earliest blush of the beautiful day 
Finds fifty young zephyrs beginning to play. 
Church Home, South Boston, 1872. 



THE PRIDE OF WEALTH. 

Pride is always a mean vice, although some 
are so mistaken as to suppose it can dwell in 
a noble mind ; yet, as its distinguishing trait 
is cruelty in little things, it must be regarded 
by every generous heart with aversion. If 
there is one phase of pride which might claim 
toleration more than another, it is, undoubtedly, 
that which combined age, dignity, and learning 
can give ; yet, as these qualities are almost in- 
variably united with sound wisdom, pride is gen- 
erally found in such to give place to profound 
humility. Pride is an overbearing, enci'oach- 
ing, insolent thing at all times ; and, when it 
puts forth its head, we are far-sighted to dis- 



THE PRIDE OF WEALTH. 49 

cover the fancied traits upon which it may be 
founded. But perhaps the most odious and in- 
tolerable form of this evil is the most common, 
namely, mere money -pride ; the most offen- 
sive, as it is the most insulting, standing aloof 
from the rest of mankind. Because the family 
have lately purchased a mansion in " Shoddy 
Coat Place," it heaps its disdainful favors upon 
its less prosperous neighbors, and pities the 
energetic mechanic and skilful tradesman, be- 
cause he lives more wisely and modestly. 

True, from such, education may remain afar, 
on the mouldered shelves, where, in their 
opinion, it belongs. To real merit the family do 
not pretend. No well-used talent have they to 
show ; no meek goodness that makes earth a 
garden round them : but they have money. 
They can live as lazy as they please. They can 
waste as much of Heaven's bounty as they will. 
They can sweep the streets with velvet, and 
bit their horses with silver ; yea, they can 
oppress the poor ; the widow shall tremble be- 
fore them, and before the car of their great Jug- 
gernaut, wealth, orphans shall lie in sackcloth. 
Are they not, then, mighty ? Ought not the 
company to feel a thrill of terror or pleasure, or 



50 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

some strange sensation, when they enter? and 
when they smile, should it not be reflected in 
the faces, the answering smile, of all present ? 
Yes ; all but yonder honest man. He looks 
for something more than wealth can purchase, 
— something within the glitter of outside 
show. He is possessed of the richer treasure 
of a thinking mind, a feeling heart ; and he 
barters not these for the great man's gold. 
No : they are reserved for the good, the gifted, 
and the poor, who, stripped of earth's treasures, 
are yet Nature's true nobility ; and one kind 
word from that sincere and truly noble heart is 
worth more than the wealth of Golconda. 

In a republic, where fickle fortune is ever 
changing the fate of individuals, where long- 
descended honors are not required in order 
to secure the applause of men, short-lived 
popularity is often the off-shoot of fortunate 
speculation. But true elevation is, and ever 
will be, far removed from such meretricious 
advancement. Real worth is alone that which 
will bear inspection and command esteem ; and 
however conspicuous misplaced wealth may 
render its possessor, gifts of the mind and the 
heart can alone retain the homage of mankind. 



TRUE CHARITY. 51 



TRUE CHARITY. 

TO THE MASSACHUSETTS GRAND LODGE, RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. 

Tell it not to a friend, tell it not to a foe, 
The errand of mercy on which thou must go. 
On earth whisper naught of thy deed of love, 
Or it echoeth not through the arches above. 

Go, bind up the wound that is dripping with 

gore; 
Thy wine and thy oil on the sufferer pour ; 
Then tenderly bear him to sheltering inn : 
But tell not the deed to the selfish within. 

See where the pale orphan is dying for bread ; 
So, on thy strong shoulder, support the young 

head; 
Fold close the thin form to thy pitying breast ; 
Give it food, give it shelter ; hush ! there let it 

rest. 



52 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Hark ! yonder tlie sound of the funeral bier, 
That claims from the stranger one pitying tear ; 
Behold that bowed form, moving trembling and 

slow : 
It tells that the widow hath deepened her woe. 

From her home, long ago, all its idols have 

fled; 
Her darling, her beautiful, sleeps with the dead. 
Press throuo-h the cold world to the desolate 

one. 
And be her protector, her brother, her son ! 



Hush ! leave to the Pharisee, haughty and 

proud. 
The trumpet that heralds his charities loud: 
Be thine the meek love and Nazarene tread, 
That far in the wilderness casteth its bread. 



Yes : leave to the world and its annals of fame. 
To write in large letters false charity's name ; 
While thine be the smile and the anthem 

above. 
The angelic plaudit of unselfish love. 



Pharaoh's daughter. 53 



PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER. 

The gorgeous sun had just kissed the wave 

Which the paper-reeds by the river lave ; 

In tlie spice-groves opens the half-formed flower, 

As the light comes down in a dazzling shower ; 

While here and there a scattered palm 

Lifts its feathery head, the eye to charm ; 

Or gazing on its shadow fair. 

Thrown on the clear, deep waters there, 

With its trembling foot and its brilliant eye. 

And its graceful figure, formed to fly, 

Pauses, as if by a magic spell, 

The light and beautiful gazelle. 

Afar are Thebes' majestic towers. 

Where rally Egypt's loftiest powers ; 

And splendid, on her gates of gold 

And sculptured stone, in pride untold. 

Statue on statue, tomb on tomb. 

Emerge like stars from the parting gloom ; 

And, as the sun meets his giant brow, 

Memnon's musical praises flow. 

5* 



54 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Such was tlie scene ! so still and fair, 

So dreamlike on the summer air, 

That it might seem, o'er the lovely land. 

Conjured there by a potent wand, 

The fairy- work of mystic sage. 

Or vision of the bright mirage. 

Such was the scene, when a noiseless tread 

Presses the reed and the lily's head ; 

A gentle hand parts softly there 

The thickets of balm and fragrant myrrh. 

As, struggling through the tangled sedge, 

And pressing on to the water's edge, 

Startling the bird with her stifled moan, 

A weeping mother comes alone. 

The rich black tress, and the woven veil. 

Where words of the Most High prevail ; 

The law engraved on the bracelet rare. 

And the "fringe of blue" on the robe, declare 

That lovely weeper a Jewess fair. 

A burden upon her bosom lies 

All heedless of that bosom's sighs ; 

For unharmed by fear, unscathed b}'- care, 

Infancy calmly is sleeping there. 

She kneeletli low on the velvet sod ; 

Her eyes she lifts to the mourner's God ; 

And fervent and deep was the prayer she said, 



Pharaoh's daughter. 55 

As her darling by the wave she laid : 

" God of my fathers ! protect my boy ; 

Him to Thy service I gladly vow ! 

From harm, from death, shield this little head : 

Mighty Jehovah, my prayer is said." 

Now she is gone, and the morning flies. 

As slowly the golden ripples rise ; 

One by one does each flower's head 

Sink to rest on the river's bed. 

The tiny ark, where the infant sleeps, 

Its place 'mid the lilies no longer keeps : 

Twice has it lifted, then sunk again ; 

A tangled root of a spreading vine 

Just holds it from the advancing tide. 

But hark ! for over the desert wide 

Rings dulcimer and timbrel note, 

And voices sweet o'er the river float ; 

While the cymbal, lightly beating, 

In the wild dance, embracing, meeting, 

With garland, and with jewels dight, 

A lovely band flash their glances bright. 

With silver zone, and with robe of snow, 

Egyptian pearls on her tower-crowned brow, 

With lovely face and with royal mein. 

Behold, in their midst their graceful queen ! 

Their bounding feet now have reached the wave ; 



(( 



56 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

And fairy forms in the bright stream lave. 

The princess alone, in reverie, 

Reclines beneath a spreading tree : 

Her folded hands and startino; tear 

Tell she thinks of the slauohtered infants here : 

For her guilty parent breathes the prayer : 

Will Israel's .God my father spare ? " 
She starts ! on the wave is fixed her eye, 
For her ear hath caught a feeble cry ; 
And the little captive form she sees 
Just floating away from the sheltering trees ; 
With a piercing cry, her maidens grasp 
The tiny shallop, embracing fast ; 
With loving smiles and kisses sweet. 
They bear it to their mistress' feet : 
Her gentle arm its form hath pressed. 
'' 'Tis one of the Hebrew's children blest: 
He shall be mine ! my son ! my heir ! 
And may Jehovah Egypt spare ! " 
The infant shares the princess' home, 
Till Egypt's fearful doom has come ; 
Till thunders pealed, as the land he trod. 
The arm of the Lord, the prophet of God. 



TRIAL. 57 



TRIAL. 

They tell me hearts are long in breaking ; 

That Sorrow's arrow seldom kills : 
Oh ! will the future prove a wakino- 

-brora the sad past, — long dream of ills? 

On the unwritten scroll of fortune, 
Saj, are there characters of light ? 

The fickle goddess all importune, 

Changing our life's bright day to night. 

Like the illusion of the desert. 
The vision of the wild mirage, 

Joy has held out a transient covert. 
While Trial still the war did wao-e. 

Hope, starlike, in the distance glittered, 
But starlike, too, its beam has set. 

The heart's free beatings all were fettered 
By disappointment and recrret. 



58 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Oh ! tell me not the day is breaking : 
I have seen mornings just as fair, 

That left at noon the heart all aching 
With some fresh sorrow yet to bear. 

No : let me watch the storm-clouds gather, 

With all their drapery of gold. 
'Tis Love's own hand, — it is my Father, — 

That all these breakino; clouds has rolled. 

Through weary hours the heart is yearning, 
Still pressing onward to my God : 

While, unconsumed, the bush is burning, — 
Loved, because passing 'neath the rod ! 



THE RAINDROP. 

Dipped in the rainbow's golden rim. 

Flooded with lio-ht from its amber bower. 

Shadowed a while in the tempest dim. 

Is the gem of the mist, the child of the 
shower. 



THE RAINDROP. 59 

Poised in the morn on an emerald shaft, 

With Titania's circlet of diamond dew ; 
Or hid in the dell, where no sunbeam hath 
laughed. 
The raindrop, to angels, gives back heaven's 
blue. 

Hanging a while 'mid the fringed gold 

That lights with its splendor the tempest 
gloom ; 
Hidino; its head in the crimson fold 

Of the banner-cloud o'er the sunset's tomb ; 
Swept on a cloud past the eagle's wing, 

Speeding o'er mountain and trackless sea. 
To softly sink by the desert spring, 

Or border with blossoms the upland lea. 

Meeting the storm in its onward flight, 

'Neath the crystal shell of its breastplate 
clear, 
Where the mariner's skill and the tempest fight, 

And over the victory dropping a tear ; 
Hurrying down to its coral bed. 

Or breaking in light on some pearly shore, 
Where the dolphin's leap jars its rock}^ bed. 

Or the sea-flower waves by its lowly bier. 



60 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 



THE TOURNAMENT. 

The trumpets have sounded, the banners are set, 
And the champions bold in the lists have met : 
Proudly they ride 'neath their pennons gay, 
For their ladies' eyes see their deeds to-day. 

Beauty is bending anxiously 

From the gilded screen of the balcony : 

She hath braided her tresses with utmost care. 

For her own true knight rides proudly there. 

Yonder fair, witli the golden tress. 
And the pearls that the swan-hke neck caress. 
And eyes like heaven's own canopy, — 
The choice of Sir Denis Montjoy is she. 

That lovely maid, with the queenly air, 

And the circlet of gems in her dark-brown hair, 

Clear is the glance of her eagle eye, 

And the firm, sweet mouth, so proud and high. 



THE TOURNAMENT. ' 61 

Her vesture of crimson, fringed with gold, 
Round her slender form in waves is rolled ; 
Her colors are borne in the lists below : 
She is queen of the tourney now. 

Around her, and in a beauteous throng, 
The highborn, the lovely, the good, and young : 
Their coronets they have set more fair. 
For lover and lord are assembled there. 

The trumpet sounds ; and the champions wheel 
In pairs round the Hsts, bowing lances of steel ; 
Baron and noble and princely knight 
Helrnless ride 'neath those glances bright. 

The loveliest dauo-hters of old Provence 
Gaze on the ranks of their high defence ; 
Bendino; the heart that a host mio-ht dare, 
And the proud eye falls 'neath the glance of 
the fair. 

Yonder knight, with the sable plume. 
Has just arrived from the holy tomb : 
The managed steed he strokes so fond. 
He won from the Sultan of Trebizond. 

6 



62 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Terrible in the fight is he ! 

He hath made a hundred Moslems flee ; 

His single arm turned the heathen's flank : 

" A Templar ! " is whispered from rank to rank. 

Yonder lord with the chestnut hair — 
Green and gold does his gorget bear — 
Is Sir Aldamar, of the royal stem, 
Just returned from Jerusalem ! 

To the right, to the left, the champions ride, 
And the hosts their severed ranks divide. 
One trumpet-peal the conclave jars, 
And the knights close up there vizor bars. 

The lances in rest are levelled low ; 
Like burnished statues each mail-clad row ; 
The chargers champ on the golden bit ; 
With the sun's first beams the helms are lit. 

One moment they stand, like the rifted rock ; 
The next, they meet like the thunder's shock ! 
A cloud of dust their ranks infold, 
As horse and man on the ground are rolled. 



ENCOURAGEMENT. 63 



ENCOURAGEMENT. 



Cheer thee, cheer thee ! Behold, the light is 
streaming ; 
The storm is dreary, bufit cannot last ; 
Saw ye one tempest with no rainbow beaming, 
Triumphal arches, where that storm had 
passed ? 
And where its darkest pinion heaviest rolled 
Sunset hangs banners, — crimson, green, and 
gold. 



Cheer thee, cheer thee ! What though the pros- 
pect darkens ? 
Nerve thee to bear ; lift up the downcast eye ; 
Know, to each suffering sigh. Love, boundless, 
hearkens ; 
The flax burns dimly, but it shall not die. 
Remember, 'tis thy God whose voice hath said, 
'' Without your Father, not one sparrow dead." 



64 HOURS WITH THE LONELY. 

Cheer thee, cheer thee ! Think each suflPering 
hour 
Another gem to glitter in thy crown. 
Griefs root is bitter, but its glorious flower 
From highest heaven shakes rich perfumes 
down. 
Over each suffering head, now bowed in pain. 
An angel harp may ring its highest strain. 

Cheer thee, cheer thee ! Such was their song of 

glory : 
*' Good will on earth to man, and peace in 

heaven ; " 
And, think you the sweet angels change their 

story, 
Because, meanwhile, one suffering hour is 

given ? 
They see your crown, white robe, and martyr 

palm. 
Lift their bright eyes, and chant a loftier psalm. 



